Gift Fic for honooko
To: honooko
From: ltgmars
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Lyrical Memory
Pairing/Group: Matsumiya (Arashi)
Rating: PG, for sex-type wordage in passing
Warnings: Fluff/Romance
Notes: honooko, it was a pleasure to write for you. I hope you enjoy this. :D Thank you to my beta, whose headache after she helped me revise this is only one of many tokens of my love for her.
Summary: Nino's been waiting for years to finally get those lyrics from Jun.
The crank-turning, whistling-blowing machines of the factory on the ground floor have turned in for the night, and Jun and Nino are alone in Nino's second-floor bedroom. Jun sits on the bed, listening to the sound of the rain plinking against the glass of Nino's window. In the main room, the television explodes with primetime adventures of this-or-that comedian group, almost loud enough to drown out laughter that's twice as old and almost as jaded as Nino's. Jun smiles to himself, and Nino dips his head, squinting exaggeratedly in apology. "Just a second, I need to go tell my mom off." And he slips out of the room before Jun can respond.
Nino's room is the same as it's always been. Jun remembers the layout from the few times he'd been there when they were teenagers, and the only thing that's really changed is the addition of trinkets gathered over the years -- prizes and awards and mementos (the latest acquisition a framed picture of Nino with Eastwood and Watanabe, Nino looking tiny and dazzled). They're lined up in what Jun has to assume are "good enough" rows in front of Nino's manga and video games.
The distant noise from the television drips away, and before long Nino walks back into the room, a glass of water in each hand. Jun takes one with a nod of thanks -- he has had quite a bit to drink already -- and watches Nino walk across the room and sit at his keyboard. That's also a recent addition, Jun realizes, or at least Jun doesn't remember Nino's music corner being as cramped as it is.
The papers on the top of the keyboard rustle as Nino pushes them aside and sits his water there. He turns to face Jun, bringing his legs up and tucking them under himself. The room is quiet now -- it's just them and the rain -- but Jun doesn't rush to find anything to say.
Jun watches Nino's eyes; he often does. They never focus on the same thing for long, especially when Nino doesn't have to be looking at anything, so they end up drifting from one thing to another across the room, even now, even in a room that Nino knows better than anyone else. That's one of the things Jun admires about Nino -- he's always looking around, and even though Jun can claim to be the same way, always trying to find flaws or things to improve, he and Nino are completely different. Because while Jun spends his time noticing details, Nino simply sees.
Jun takes another sip of water, and his eyes settle on the keyboard. Nino smiles and shifts in his seat. Jun's been seen. "Shall I play something?" Nino asks. He unfolds his legs and turns back toward the keyboard, plucking his water off the top and placing it on the floor before he turns the power on. The built-in speakers come to life with a thump-fizz, and Nino taps at a key with a rigid finger, adjusting the volume until he nods and straightens in front of the keys.
"I've actually been working on something," he says, tittering. His eyes follow his own fingers they sashay from key to key, false arrogance in every note.
"It's rare for you to be embarrassed," Jun says, a grin piercing his cheek. "Why don't you just play already?"
Nino slouches. "I'm not embarrassed," he mutters, and Jun knows for sure then that he is. He tilts forward and curves over his keyboard, like an angry virtuoso except that his limbs are loose and there's a shy smile on his face. Hand sure, he plays one chord, and Jun wishes he knew more about music so that he could call it more than just "pretty". And then Nino plays another, and then the next, and then he walks his right hand through a musical line.
"This is the melody," Nino says, not taking his eyes off his hands. He hums along with the notes, fondly, and Jun suddenly feels like he's witnessing something he isn't supposed to, something private and intimate, something raw and unpolished and for Nino's ears only until it's dressed up for an audience. Jun needs more water then, because his throat is strangely dry, but he can't bring himself to move because he's too busy being mesmerized.
And then it happens, the moment that Jun will remember for longer than he'll admit to anyone, especially to himself: in the middle of a high note, Nino turns to look at Jun. His humming is just short of matching pitch with the piano, but Jun finds the whole thing -- the song, the smile, the rain -- unspeakably beautiful in a way he isn't expecting to. Maybe Nino notices, because he always notices, but he doesn't say anything; he just smiles a little bigger, almost glowing. "Write me some lyrics, Jun-kun," Nino says. And it's like his eyes continue the thought, trite but painfully honest, You might as well, since your heart's already working on the percussion line.
Jun nods in agreement, knowing he'll do anything for Nino if this is how he asks, but it'll have to wait; he's quite literally speechless.
*
Over the next year or so, it turns into a joke for them. Whenever Jun asks a favor of Nino (it's not something he likes to do, but he knows when Nino can do something he can't take care of himself), Nino mentions The Case of the Missing Lyrics, and Jun retorts that surely he's come up with his own since then.
Nino has, in fact. Not for the right melody, but he's written lyrics for his album solo. It's about rain and about words he can't say and about being together with someone for a long, long time, and Jun's far too romantic for his own good because he pretends sometimes it's about him. But then he realizes how strange that would be, because Nino doesn't seem like the kind of person who wouldn't be able to say it. He's calm about things, much calmer than Jun is, and intellectual, almost calculating. They're just words, aren't they? Though it might be Jun's own annoyance with the situation, with the heavy looks and the touches in passing like leaves skittering across an empty street, not wanting to be caught. There's something going on between them, but Jun's having trouble articulating it, having trouble even thinking it through in his mind. Or maybe he's just too scared to, and that thought aggravates him the most.
"You're the one who's good with words," Jun snaps one morning when he's not feeling up for their usual exchange. He flinches, feeling too brittle to do more than grunt an apology, but Nino absorbs it like he tends to when the mood's not right, taking it in stride, nodding, deferring to Jun.
"Sorry, you're right. Movie filming is starting soon, isn't it? You must be working hard."
Jun feels like a child then, like he's done something wrong to someone who was only trying to help. But Nino's looking at him with steady eyes, a hand on Jun's arm, and it isn't until Jun nods sheepishly that Nino lets go.
"Sorry, Nino," Jun says again, and he simultaneously hopes that Nino understands and is completely oblivious about how much that song means to him. "I'll try to write something when I have free time, okay?"
Nino smiles at him, seeming genuinely happy. "Thanks. And I can help you, since I know you're busy." He hums in thought as his eyes shift away. Jun follows his gaze, watching the other members. Sho and Aiba are sitting on a couch, examining the latest issue of Wink Up (it's the shoot where they played with a room brimming with hats; Jun tries not to think about how he was the only person Nino didn't pick one out for). Ohno's cross-legged in a chair, poking through the volume of Jump Nino left there last week until he seems to find a series he's interested in. It's quiet in the dressing room, quiet and still. Jun smiles to himself when he realizes it's like the calm before the storm, though he's not sure what other storm there is to expect.
"Maybe..." The sound of Nino's voice brings Jun's focus back to the conversation. Lyrics. Nino rubs his chin with the plane of his fingers as he thinks.
"Maybe...?" Jun prompts.
Nino looks up at him then, giving him a considering grin that almost hides the way his eyes are shining. "Maybe we should start with 'I like you.'"
*
Nino moves into Jun's apartment a few months before Arashi's eleventh anniversary. He calls himself Jun's birthday present, and Sho laughs and shifts the box in his arms enough to elbow Jun in the side. "How nice for you, MatsuJun!" he says in mock congratulations.
Jun ignores the conspiratorial snickering and fixes Nino with a serious look over the set of plastic bins he's carrying. "I'm still expecting an actual present on my birthday."
Nino's grin drops in time with his voice. It comes out an octave deeper than usual as he murmurs in an affectedly sultry voice, "Oh, you'll get a present."
Suddenly, Aiba barrels between them, and Jun only barely believes it's unintentional, but he's grateful for the respite from Nino's idiocy either way. Nino tries to kick at Aiba but can't sweep his leg forward quickly enough, so he simply yells ahead and warns Aiba to "be careful with that box!"
"It's not like there's anything important in here anyway!"
And the chase is on.
Jun chuckles and turns back to see how much is left in the car, taking a small step back in surprise when he notices Ohno right beside him. "He has too many instruments," Ohno says in a wry grumble as he hugs Nino's third guitar case to his chest. Jun has to keep himself from saying something embarrassing like, "It's just the right amount."
Having all five of them there makes moving easier, and Nino's relatively spartan nature (and more significantly the fact that half of his property has already been living in Jun's apartment) makes setup quick. Afterwards, they decide to celebrate -- Jun puts on Roman Holiday, and they sit around the entertainment system in the living room, pouring drinks and sharing stories. Sho totters to Nino's keyboard in the corner of the room and bumbles his way through one of the classical piano pieces he's been trying to revive. Nino and Aiba take turns strumming the guitar, background noise during their conversations, though Jun has to say that Nino's technique is much more sophisticated than Aiba's, even if Nino's much weaker with alcohol. Jun spends the night acting as host, though as he squints bleary eyes at Nino, he realizes that isn't exactly right -- there should be two hosts now, not one. Nino catches him staring and nods affectionately, being careful not to jostle Ohno out of his half-slumber against his shoulder.
Jun takes it all in and giggles; he can barely stand how happy he is.
It's only a few collective cans of beer later that Nino decides it's time for everyone to go home. "Drama filming is underway," he says in explanation, and one of the things Jun loves about the other members is how they immediately respect Nino's wishes to sleep before he reluctantly races the sun to rise in the morning.
Jun and Nino do a perfunctory survey of the damage just to find that there isn't any -- as a group they're also good at cleaning up after themselves, if only because they all learned early on that Sho doesn't stand for anything otherwise -- so Nino nods toward the bathroom, and Jun waits for him to start walking before he follows.
Sharing a bath is nothing compared to sharing a bed. The bath routine they've mastered, a calm moment when they're together but by themselves, quiet and thoughtful and everything they're not allowed to be on television. But the bed routine is new, or the part that's percolating in Jun's mind is, at least -- it's not just Jun's bed anymore, or Nino's bed on occasion. It's their bed, now. Their bed.
Theirs.
Jun stands rigidly at the side of the bed and nods sharply, his neck creaking. He indicates the bed with his left arm and says very carefully, "Please, go ahead." He can feel Nino's eyes on him for a moment before Nino turns to the side with a high noise, tucking his face into his flannel-clad elbow as he laughs.
"You're amazing, Jun-kun," he manages between frothy giggles. "Now get in."
Jun fights the sullen embarrassment he feels as he lifts up the covers and shuffles across the mattress. He's not willing to spend his first night in their bed in a bad mood. But then Nino slides in next to him, warm and comfortable and affectionate at every point along his body, and Jun completely forgets what "being in bad mood" even means.
"I was serious when I said I have an early morning," Nino says, his breath soft and spearminty against Jun's cheek, his hands curled into the front of Jun's shirt, fingers teasing between the buttons. Jun leans in instinctively as Nino continues, "We can't get too messy, so you'll have to settle for a blowjob."
Jun shoves Nino to the far side of the bed as Nino laughs far too amusedly, and then Jun grins and scrabbles for Nino's arms, tugging him back, straight into his lips.
*
It's late when Jun gets home. The local shops along the street are all closed, and the salarymen are already hitting their second or third bars, their raucous yells following Jun all the way into the apartment. "I'm home," he calls, and somewhere between the jumbled-up lines of dialogue and the director's comments, a part of his mind is present enough to appreciate having someone there to respond. He walks into the living room and finds Nino on the floor in front of the TV playing Grand Theft Auto.
"How was your day, Jun-kun?" Nino says without pausing, shoulders hunched and fingers mashing.
"Long." Jun has more to say but doesn't want to bother Nino in the middle of his game. They'll talk later anyway.
Nino nods slightly. "I hope you didn't expect dinner, because I didn't make you any."
Jun smirks. "I ate on set, so it's fine. I'm going to take a bath."
Jun starts to unpeel himself as he heads into the bathroom to put the water on. He opens the door and is immediately hit with a rush of steam, and when it clears he realizes why: Nino's already prepared the bath for him. "That guy," he mutters. He doubles back into the living room and finds Nino just as he left him, and he watches Nino's character run around the screen for a moment, dark mayhem aflutter, before he bends down to kiss Nino on the top of his head. Nino squirms and makes a disapproving noise. "I know already. I love you, too."
Jun grins despite himself. "You're awful." He finishes undressing and bundles his clothes in his arms, dropping them into the laundry basket on his way back to the bathroom.
He washes quickly, scrubbing just enough to feel like he's gone over every part of his body. He rinses, suds running into the drain, and then he gets to the part he's looking forward to: the dip in the tub. He lowers himself into it, slowly and savoringly, letting the hot water wrap around him and sitting still for a few minutes as his body unwinds.
When Jun turns to reach for the final volume of 1Q84, his current bathtime reading, he finds a simple black ballpoint pen on top of the book and recognizes it right away -- it's usually sitting on top of Nino's keyboard, or sometimes wiggling in Nino's hand as he's scribbles down words and phrases he wants to return to. Jun shrugs, reverently putting the pen aside and picks up his book to read.
Inside, there's a folded piece of waterproof origami paper. It's the kind Nino's joked about at the 100 yen store, the kind he probably does want to fold in the bath, despite the sneering tone of his comments. In a corner of the paper is a passable drawing of a man kicking another man in the calf, both sporting exaggerated angry faces, with a heart floating between them. Underneath the kicking man, there's a note in Nino's rushed script: It's been five years already. Lyrics??
Jun laughs, and the noise bounces off the bathroom walls and returns to him like the memory of wavering voices and rainy days. "You win, Nino," and even as he says it, he knows it's a lie, because Jun doesn't feel like he's lost.
He picks up the pen, smiles one more time at the drawing, and begins to write.
From: ltgmars
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Lyrical Memory
Pairing/Group: Matsumiya (Arashi)
Rating: PG, for sex-type wordage in passing
Warnings: Fluff/Romance
Notes: honooko, it was a pleasure to write for you. I hope you enjoy this. :D Thank you to my beta, whose headache after she helped me revise this is only one of many tokens of my love for her.
Summary: Nino's been waiting for years to finally get those lyrics from Jun.
The crank-turning, whistling-blowing machines of the factory on the ground floor have turned in for the night, and Jun and Nino are alone in Nino's second-floor bedroom. Jun sits on the bed, listening to the sound of the rain plinking against the glass of Nino's window. In the main room, the television explodes with primetime adventures of this-or-that comedian group, almost loud enough to drown out laughter that's twice as old and almost as jaded as Nino's. Jun smiles to himself, and Nino dips his head, squinting exaggeratedly in apology. "Just a second, I need to go tell my mom off." And he slips out of the room before Jun can respond.
Nino's room is the same as it's always been. Jun remembers the layout from the few times he'd been there when they were teenagers, and the only thing that's really changed is the addition of trinkets gathered over the years -- prizes and awards and mementos (the latest acquisition a framed picture of Nino with Eastwood and Watanabe, Nino looking tiny and dazzled). They're lined up in what Jun has to assume are "good enough" rows in front of Nino's manga and video games.
The distant noise from the television drips away, and before long Nino walks back into the room, a glass of water in each hand. Jun takes one with a nod of thanks -- he has had quite a bit to drink already -- and watches Nino walk across the room and sit at his keyboard. That's also a recent addition, Jun realizes, or at least Jun doesn't remember Nino's music corner being as cramped as it is.
The papers on the top of the keyboard rustle as Nino pushes them aside and sits his water there. He turns to face Jun, bringing his legs up and tucking them under himself. The room is quiet now -- it's just them and the rain -- but Jun doesn't rush to find anything to say.
Jun watches Nino's eyes; he often does. They never focus on the same thing for long, especially when Nino doesn't have to be looking at anything, so they end up drifting from one thing to another across the room, even now, even in a room that Nino knows better than anyone else. That's one of the things Jun admires about Nino -- he's always looking around, and even though Jun can claim to be the same way, always trying to find flaws or things to improve, he and Nino are completely different. Because while Jun spends his time noticing details, Nino simply sees.
Jun takes another sip of water, and his eyes settle on the keyboard. Nino smiles and shifts in his seat. Jun's been seen. "Shall I play something?" Nino asks. He unfolds his legs and turns back toward the keyboard, plucking his water off the top and placing it on the floor before he turns the power on. The built-in speakers come to life with a thump-fizz, and Nino taps at a key with a rigid finger, adjusting the volume until he nods and straightens in front of the keys.
"I've actually been working on something," he says, tittering. His eyes follow his own fingers they sashay from key to key, false arrogance in every note.
"It's rare for you to be embarrassed," Jun says, a grin piercing his cheek. "Why don't you just play already?"
Nino slouches. "I'm not embarrassed," he mutters, and Jun knows for sure then that he is. He tilts forward and curves over his keyboard, like an angry virtuoso except that his limbs are loose and there's a shy smile on his face. Hand sure, he plays one chord, and Jun wishes he knew more about music so that he could call it more than just "pretty". And then Nino plays another, and then the next, and then he walks his right hand through a musical line.
"This is the melody," Nino says, not taking his eyes off his hands. He hums along with the notes, fondly, and Jun suddenly feels like he's witnessing something he isn't supposed to, something private and intimate, something raw and unpolished and for Nino's ears only until it's dressed up for an audience. Jun needs more water then, because his throat is strangely dry, but he can't bring himself to move because he's too busy being mesmerized.
And then it happens, the moment that Jun will remember for longer than he'll admit to anyone, especially to himself: in the middle of a high note, Nino turns to look at Jun. His humming is just short of matching pitch with the piano, but Jun finds the whole thing -- the song, the smile, the rain -- unspeakably beautiful in a way he isn't expecting to. Maybe Nino notices, because he always notices, but he doesn't say anything; he just smiles a little bigger, almost glowing. "Write me some lyrics, Jun-kun," Nino says. And it's like his eyes continue the thought, trite but painfully honest, You might as well, since your heart's already working on the percussion line.
Jun nods in agreement, knowing he'll do anything for Nino if this is how he asks, but it'll have to wait; he's quite literally speechless.
*
Over the next year or so, it turns into a joke for them. Whenever Jun asks a favor of Nino (it's not something he likes to do, but he knows when Nino can do something he can't take care of himself), Nino mentions The Case of the Missing Lyrics, and Jun retorts that surely he's come up with his own since then.
Nino has, in fact. Not for the right melody, but he's written lyrics for his album solo. It's about rain and about words he can't say and about being together with someone for a long, long time, and Jun's far too romantic for his own good because he pretends sometimes it's about him. But then he realizes how strange that would be, because Nino doesn't seem like the kind of person who wouldn't be able to say it. He's calm about things, much calmer than Jun is, and intellectual, almost calculating. They're just words, aren't they? Though it might be Jun's own annoyance with the situation, with the heavy looks and the touches in passing like leaves skittering across an empty street, not wanting to be caught. There's something going on between them, but Jun's having trouble articulating it, having trouble even thinking it through in his mind. Or maybe he's just too scared to, and that thought aggravates him the most.
"You're the one who's good with words," Jun snaps one morning when he's not feeling up for their usual exchange. He flinches, feeling too brittle to do more than grunt an apology, but Nino absorbs it like he tends to when the mood's not right, taking it in stride, nodding, deferring to Jun.
"Sorry, you're right. Movie filming is starting soon, isn't it? You must be working hard."
Jun feels like a child then, like he's done something wrong to someone who was only trying to help. But Nino's looking at him with steady eyes, a hand on Jun's arm, and it isn't until Jun nods sheepishly that Nino lets go.
"Sorry, Nino," Jun says again, and he simultaneously hopes that Nino understands and is completely oblivious about how much that song means to him. "I'll try to write something when I have free time, okay?"
Nino smiles at him, seeming genuinely happy. "Thanks. And I can help you, since I know you're busy." He hums in thought as his eyes shift away. Jun follows his gaze, watching the other members. Sho and Aiba are sitting on a couch, examining the latest issue of Wink Up (it's the shoot where they played with a room brimming with hats; Jun tries not to think about how he was the only person Nino didn't pick one out for). Ohno's cross-legged in a chair, poking through the volume of Jump Nino left there last week until he seems to find a series he's interested in. It's quiet in the dressing room, quiet and still. Jun smiles to himself when he realizes it's like the calm before the storm, though he's not sure what other storm there is to expect.
"Maybe..." The sound of Nino's voice brings Jun's focus back to the conversation. Lyrics. Nino rubs his chin with the plane of his fingers as he thinks.
"Maybe...?" Jun prompts.
Nino looks up at him then, giving him a considering grin that almost hides the way his eyes are shining. "Maybe we should start with 'I like you.'"
*
Nino moves into Jun's apartment a few months before Arashi's eleventh anniversary. He calls himself Jun's birthday present, and Sho laughs and shifts the box in his arms enough to elbow Jun in the side. "How nice for you, MatsuJun!" he says in mock congratulations.
Jun ignores the conspiratorial snickering and fixes Nino with a serious look over the set of plastic bins he's carrying. "I'm still expecting an actual present on my birthday."
Nino's grin drops in time with his voice. It comes out an octave deeper than usual as he murmurs in an affectedly sultry voice, "Oh, you'll get a present."
Suddenly, Aiba barrels between them, and Jun only barely believes it's unintentional, but he's grateful for the respite from Nino's idiocy either way. Nino tries to kick at Aiba but can't sweep his leg forward quickly enough, so he simply yells ahead and warns Aiba to "be careful with that box!"
"It's not like there's anything important in here anyway!"
And the chase is on.
Jun chuckles and turns back to see how much is left in the car, taking a small step back in surprise when he notices Ohno right beside him. "He has too many instruments," Ohno says in a wry grumble as he hugs Nino's third guitar case to his chest. Jun has to keep himself from saying something embarrassing like, "It's just the right amount."
Having all five of them there makes moving easier, and Nino's relatively spartan nature (and more significantly the fact that half of his property has already been living in Jun's apartment) makes setup quick. Afterwards, they decide to celebrate -- Jun puts on Roman Holiday, and they sit around the entertainment system in the living room, pouring drinks and sharing stories. Sho totters to Nino's keyboard in the corner of the room and bumbles his way through one of the classical piano pieces he's been trying to revive. Nino and Aiba take turns strumming the guitar, background noise during their conversations, though Jun has to say that Nino's technique is much more sophisticated than Aiba's, even if Nino's much weaker with alcohol. Jun spends the night acting as host, though as he squints bleary eyes at Nino, he realizes that isn't exactly right -- there should be two hosts now, not one. Nino catches him staring and nods affectionately, being careful not to jostle Ohno out of his half-slumber against his shoulder.
Jun takes it all in and giggles; he can barely stand how happy he is.
It's only a few collective cans of beer later that Nino decides it's time for everyone to go home. "Drama filming is underway," he says in explanation, and one of the things Jun loves about the other members is how they immediately respect Nino's wishes to sleep before he reluctantly races the sun to rise in the morning.
Jun and Nino do a perfunctory survey of the damage just to find that there isn't any -- as a group they're also good at cleaning up after themselves, if only because they all learned early on that Sho doesn't stand for anything otherwise -- so Nino nods toward the bathroom, and Jun waits for him to start walking before he follows.
Sharing a bath is nothing compared to sharing a bed. The bath routine they've mastered, a calm moment when they're together but by themselves, quiet and thoughtful and everything they're not allowed to be on television. But the bed routine is new, or the part that's percolating in Jun's mind is, at least -- it's not just Jun's bed anymore, or Nino's bed on occasion. It's their bed, now. Their bed.
Theirs.
Jun stands rigidly at the side of the bed and nods sharply, his neck creaking. He indicates the bed with his left arm and says very carefully, "Please, go ahead." He can feel Nino's eyes on him for a moment before Nino turns to the side with a high noise, tucking his face into his flannel-clad elbow as he laughs.
"You're amazing, Jun-kun," he manages between frothy giggles. "Now get in."
Jun fights the sullen embarrassment he feels as he lifts up the covers and shuffles across the mattress. He's not willing to spend his first night in their bed in a bad mood. But then Nino slides in next to him, warm and comfortable and affectionate at every point along his body, and Jun completely forgets what "being in bad mood" even means.
"I was serious when I said I have an early morning," Nino says, his breath soft and spearminty against Jun's cheek, his hands curled into the front of Jun's shirt, fingers teasing between the buttons. Jun leans in instinctively as Nino continues, "We can't get too messy, so you'll have to settle for a blowjob."
Jun shoves Nino to the far side of the bed as Nino laughs far too amusedly, and then Jun grins and scrabbles for Nino's arms, tugging him back, straight into his lips.
*
It's late when Jun gets home. The local shops along the street are all closed, and the salarymen are already hitting their second or third bars, their raucous yells following Jun all the way into the apartment. "I'm home," he calls, and somewhere between the jumbled-up lines of dialogue and the director's comments, a part of his mind is present enough to appreciate having someone there to respond. He walks into the living room and finds Nino on the floor in front of the TV playing Grand Theft Auto.
"How was your day, Jun-kun?" Nino says without pausing, shoulders hunched and fingers mashing.
"Long." Jun has more to say but doesn't want to bother Nino in the middle of his game. They'll talk later anyway.
Nino nods slightly. "I hope you didn't expect dinner, because I didn't make you any."
Jun smirks. "I ate on set, so it's fine. I'm going to take a bath."
Jun starts to unpeel himself as he heads into the bathroom to put the water on. He opens the door and is immediately hit with a rush of steam, and when it clears he realizes why: Nino's already prepared the bath for him. "That guy," he mutters. He doubles back into the living room and finds Nino just as he left him, and he watches Nino's character run around the screen for a moment, dark mayhem aflutter, before he bends down to kiss Nino on the top of his head. Nino squirms and makes a disapproving noise. "I know already. I love you, too."
Jun grins despite himself. "You're awful." He finishes undressing and bundles his clothes in his arms, dropping them into the laundry basket on his way back to the bathroom.
He washes quickly, scrubbing just enough to feel like he's gone over every part of his body. He rinses, suds running into the drain, and then he gets to the part he's looking forward to: the dip in the tub. He lowers himself into it, slowly and savoringly, letting the hot water wrap around him and sitting still for a few minutes as his body unwinds.
When Jun turns to reach for the final volume of 1Q84, his current bathtime reading, he finds a simple black ballpoint pen on top of the book and recognizes it right away -- it's usually sitting on top of Nino's keyboard, or sometimes wiggling in Nino's hand as he's scribbles down words and phrases he wants to return to. Jun shrugs, reverently putting the pen aside and picks up his book to read.
Inside, there's a folded piece of waterproof origami paper. It's the kind Nino's joked about at the 100 yen store, the kind he probably does want to fold in the bath, despite the sneering tone of his comments. In a corner of the paper is a passable drawing of a man kicking another man in the calf, both sporting exaggerated angry faces, with a heart floating between them. Underneath the kicking man, there's a note in Nino's rushed script: It's been five years already. Lyrics??
Jun laughs, and the noise bounces off the bathroom walls and returns to him like the memory of wavering voices and rainy days. "You win, Nino," and even as he says it, he knows it's a lie, because Jun doesn't feel like he's lost.
He picks up the pen, smiles one more time at the drawing, and begins to write.